


Give It The Old Oxford Try

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 2k words of nothing but tender porn, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fucking in the bookshop, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), I am a simple creechur who got told "thigh fucking" and then did this, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Yes Crowley thinks conjuring flame on his thumb is cool, Yes they smoke after sex, honest to god there's legitimately no plot here, no I don't take criticism, pre-negotiated kinks, pseudo not really exhibitionism, they don't get caught, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: "Angel!" Crowley hissed back in response, lips stretched wide over his face as he leaned in to drag the tip of his nose along Aziraphale's exposed neck. He laid ghostly kisses over sensitive skin and gripped tightly at Aziraphale's hips to keep him in place. Admittedly, if Aziraphalereallydidn't like it, he could easily overpower Crowley and get back to what he’d been doing—he had, in fact, done exactly that before—but that was part of the fun of it all."You– you fiend!" Aziraphale huffed, arching his spine just a little to push his arse back against Crowley, biting back a self-satisfied smirk at the quiet moan breathed into his ear. He gasped when Crowley bit down on his earlobe and then nibbled his way down Aziraphale's neck until he reached the stiff collar."What's that make you then, angel, if you want it bad as I do?" Crowley murmured, voice low and as rich as dark chocolate, thick with temptation.An angel and a demon fuck in a bookshop. That's it, that's the punchline.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 148





	Give It The Old Oxford Try

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Aziraphale is a slight exhibitionist who more likes the thrill of _possibly_ being caught but not actually being caught, and Crowley accommodates; very much established relationship and fully consensual, pre-negotiated kink and all that jazz. 
> 
> Also, thank you very much to [emotional_snek](https://www.instagram.com/emotional_snek/), who I _fully_ blame for how feral I went over this.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale whispered roughly in admonishment as he was crowded up against the wall by the kitchenette in the back room. He'd dropped the book in his hand and his chest was uncomfortably mashed up against the hard brick-and-plaster wall, Crowley a _rather_ distracting menace pressed up along his back like that.

"Angel!" Crowley hissed back in response, lips stretched wide over his face as he leaned in to drag the tip of his nose along Aziraphale's exposed neck. He laid ghostly kisses over sensitive skin and gripped tightly at Aziraphale's hips to keep him in place. Admittedly, if Aziraphale _really_ didn't like it, he could easily overpower Crowley and get back to what he’d been doing—he had, in fact, done exactly that before—but that was part of the fun of it all.

"You– you fiend!" Aziraphale huffed, arching his spine just a little to push his arse back against Crowley, biting back a self-satisfied smirk at the quiet moan breathed into his ear. He gasped when Crowley bit down on his earlobe and then nibbled his way down Aziraphale's neck until he reached the stiff collar.

"What's that make you then, angel, if you want it bad as I do?" Crowley murmured, voice low and as rich as dark chocolate, thick with temptation. One of his hands reached down and around to the front of Aziraphale’s trousers, slipping his fingers under the flap that kept the lines of the trouser near and tidy, hiding the button fly.

Aziraphale sighed at the barely-there warmth of Crowley's hand, making an admirable effort to lean into the touch of Crowley's palm at the apex of his thighs.

"Ah, ah-ta, angel," Crowley whispered devilishly, "Quiet, or they might hear you. Think they'll come to investigate what's happened to the kindly proprietor of this lovely establishment, mhm?" He flicked the buttons open and bit Aziraphale’s neck a little harder than before, pleased to hear Aziraphale moan despite the sting.

The angel had never been all that good at self-control, not when it was his pleasure at stake. He hummed and sighed over his food and his face was an open book about the things he liked, and Crowley had _never_ known him to be quiet during sex. Aziraphale didn’t know it, but he was free to be as loud as he wanted; Crowley had shooed away the sparse customers in the shop and closed "for lunch" before approaching.. There was, however, nothing that could be done about the faint creaking of floorboards as if from footfalls and the soft, drifting conversations from outside of the shop except to make them more obvious, of course.

"What do you have for me today?" Crowley murmured, snaking his hand past Aziraphale's trousers and down his pants, delicately brushing the tips of his fingers over his clit and down between soft folds to curl his fingers towards the source of the slickness.

"Oh, my dear, just–" Aziraphale replied tightly, trying in vain to hide his arousal.

"Greedy…" Crowley interrupted with a hum, pleased at Aziraphale's shiver and the palpable increase of wetness when he teased slowly at his angel's entrance. He circled the opening and dipped the pads of his forefinger just inside, grinding the heel of his palm against Aziraphale's clit with every lazy movement.

"What a lovely angel I've caught," Crowley said, rubbing up against Aziraphale's backside in time with his hand's movements, his own breath catching in time with each of Aziraphale's attempts at stifling his moans. "Careful now, they'll hear you if you're not quiet. And then we might have to _stop_." He followed his useless warning with another firm press of his palm, making an obscenely loud, lewd squelch sound in between the panting breaths shared by an angel and demon.

Aziraphale protested when Crowley removed his hand entirely from between his legs, but was quickly silenced when those long, deft fingers were shoved into his mouth past trembling, pouting lips and pressing down on his tongue. Crowley made soft, shushing sounds against Aziraphale's neck and used his free hand to flip up the front of Aziraphale's waistcoat and easily unbutton the braces that sat underneath. With a single motion, Crowley grabbed the waistband of Aziraphale's trousers at the small of his back and rucked them down to reveal his perfect, mouth-watering thighs, uncaring how it pulled the braces taught and made the front of them slip up underneath the waistcoat. If Crowley was lucky, it'd force some extra friction over Aziraphale's nipples.

From Aziraphale's sudden, wanton moan and bright _"oh, Crowley,"_ he had indeed gotten lucky.

Crowley crowded in even closer to Aziraphale and moaned low and breathy directly into his ear as he pulled his hand from Azirpahale's mouth to move a finger to nudge up against Aziraphale's clit. With a firm, steady pressure he rubbed circles over it. Not so fast Aziraphale would rocket to the finish, not so slow Aziraphale wouldn't be satisfied, but just at the right speed to break him apart and wrack his body with sonorous keening noises and sobbing moans and the occasional plea to speed up.

"No, no, angel, be quiet," Crowley crooned with a grin, knowing very well Aziraphale couldn't be quiet nor would he ever want him to be. There was nothing that fed his ego so well as reducing his hedonist of an angel to incoherence whenever Aziraphale liked. He buried his nose in the crook of Aziraphale's neck and shoulder, breathing in deeply. Sliding his hand from Aziraphale's waistband back down between his thighs, he slipped two fingers into Aziraphale.

"Oh," Crowley moaned, nuzzling against Aziraphale, enjoying every stuttered breath and half-aborted cry of his name as he moved his fingers.

"Crow– Crowley, please, my love, my darling," Aziraphale whimpered. His hips bucked trying to get more friction, despite his position against the wall not being well-suited for it. His hands were curled into claws and there were imprints of his fingers warped into the wall where he hadn't quite remembered to control himself when Crowley first delved underneath his trousers.

"Anything you like, angel," Crowley promised, crooking his fingers inside Aziraphale and pulling a delicious gasp from him. The demon bit his lip and groaned, rolling his still-clothed hips against Aziraphale's arse, desperate for his own pleasure.

"Come on," Crowley muttered, voice little more than a strained whisper. Aziraphale losing himself to pleasure—in any form it came in—never failed to push Crowley to the edge and keep him there. "Cum for me, just like this, your cunt clenching on my fingers. You're debauched like this, angel, completely wanton and I can barely stand it. _Fuck_ , angel, close your eyes and let go."

The fingers on Aziraphale's clit sped up and lightened the pressure just a little, enough to play with Aziraphale exactly the way he liked that would get him to his peak as quickly as possible.

"Yes, yes, fu– Crowley, please," Aziraphale whined and moaned. The wall underneath his fingers protested as he cracked through the Victorian wallpaper and into the plaster, leaving eight perfect holes the size of Aziraphale's fingers as he came, drenching Crowley's hand.

Without waiting any longer, Crowley withdrew his hands. He pulled up a thread of power from Below and pushed his own trousers down to his thighs. His palm dripping with Aziraphale's cum, he coated his cock, groaning at the slick feel as he tugged at his length once or twice. Not that he needed any help staying so ungodly aroused. His other hand moved to Aziraphale's hair and curled into a fist, drawing another whine out of Aziraphale.

He bared the angel's neck to the teasing touches of his sharp teeth and hissed, "Azssiraphale," panting with the effort it took to keep himself from rutting up against plush thighs and arse and losing himself just like this.

Aziraphale shivered in response and curled his tongue around Crowley's fingers only to seal his lips and suck on his fingers as if he was trying to get him off like that. A moan ripped its way from Crowley's throat, turning to a growl before he bit it off.

" _Fuck_ , angel," The demon panted, voice ragged, already half-way to falling apart, "You'll kill me." He surged forward, pinning Aziraphale to the wall with his chest and mumbling loving filth into Aziraphale's ear with a teasing, forked tongue flickering along sensitive skin, breathing in scents of sex and musk.

With no more patience in him, Crowley gripped tightly at Aziraphale's hips, curling his fingers until sharp nails just barely bit into them. Backing up and pulling Aziraphale with him, he lined his cock up between Aziraphale's thighs and pushed the angel down by his head so that Aziraphale would have to bend at the waist, returning his shoulders to the wall, and angle his hips just so.

"Fu– fuuuck, angel," Crowley hissed, hips bucking once before he forced himself under control. He groaned when Aziraphale shot a smirk over his shoulder and wiggled down further over his cock until Crowley's pelvis was flush against his arse. Aziraphale moaned performatively and rolled his hips experimentally, shivering in oversensitivity from his rather recent orgasm as the head of Crowley's cock dragged over sensitive flesh with every movement.

"You'll discorporate me, Aziraphale," Crowley muttered filthily, leaning over to lick at the angel's neck and scrape his teeth and bite at what little of Aziraphale's skin was available, "You'll kill me like this. I'll die happy, buried between your fat thighs slick with your pleasure. _This_ is the closest thing to heaven like the humans think of it, all mine."

"Of course, my dear, my love, anything. Oh, Crowley, I love your cock, you're beautifully, perfectly, wonderfully made for me," Aziraphale moaned and pushed back against the slow, torturous thrusts between his thighs, squeezing them together and flexing his thighs to revel in the gasping breaths and deep moans he pulled from Crowley as he did so.

Growling, Crowley yanked Aziraphale up with the hand in his hair, pulled out from between his thighs, and whirled him around only to press up against him, their chests flush together. Crowley plunged back between luscious thighs, faster than before, and extended a thumb to roll over his clit, much to Aziraphale’s pleasure. Their mouths met in the middle and neither could be sure of who initiated the kiss, only that it was desperate and heated.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Aziraphale chanted between kisses with tongue and teeth and devotion written into every movement. Crowley whined in response and kissed him again, with more fervor, pulling at his hair harder. Aziraphale happily shut up, losing himself in the kissing and the hot, urgent need brought on by wholly Earthly pleasures.

Aziraphale's back arched and his breath caught in his throat as ecstasy nearly overwhelmed him, not quite there, so close, "So close, Crowley, please, just a little more, my love." Aziraphale panted, delighting in the growl he got in reply and how Crowley's hips and thumb sped up.

 _Silly demon,_ Aziraphale thought to himself faintly, bringing both his hands up to cup Crowley's face and dig the very tips of his fingers into that place where skull became neck. There were two lovely pressure points just at the base, perfect for dragging a demon closer. _I'll never stop loving you, you'll never stop hearing of it._ It was a modern wonder that Aziraphale managed any kind of thought at all, let alone a coherent one.

Crowley moaned, and Aziraphale liked to think it was because he could hear the silent praises they both knew he simultaneously coveted and shunned Aziraphale’s own breath hitched occasionally when a spark of pleasure lit him up from between the legs or whenever Crowley gasped into his mouth, leaving him feeling light-headed with joy.

"Angel, my angel, fuck, _angel,"_ Crowley whispered, his hips stuttering and jerking, sending jagged bolts of pleasure through Aziraphale. He cried out and hid his face in Aziraphale’s neck as he came. Thick wetness, hot and sudden between his legs and the pressure of Crowley's teeth even through his collar, pushed Aziraphale over his own edge for the second time, leaving him rather messy.

It was entirely silent except for their ragged breathing and a quick mental check from Aziraphale confirmed that no one was _actually_ in the shop. The demon had turned his sign to 'Closed' and locked the front door, just as he'd suspected. The game was always a fun one to play, for all that he knew he was terrible at it. Crowley unclenched his hands, gently soothing the places his fingers had dug in or he had pulled at a little too much. Aziraphale held him softly to his shoulder, letting the demon come back to himself as slowly as he liked.

"What was that for, my dearest?" Aziraphale hummed, petting Crowley's hair, smiling bemusedly when he felt the answering shrug.

"You're just irresistible, 'suppose. Shoulda had you up here tempting humans to eat figs." Crowley mumbled.

"Oh shush, you," Aziraphale giggled at the flattery. "Though, I don't suppose you'd be the one to put us to rights, hm?"

"Oh! Yeah, right…." Crowley turned his head to kiss the corner of Aziraphale’s jaw from below, and just like that they were clean and dry, though Crowley did pull away just enough to lean against the wall to let Aziraphale do his own buttons up. Fussy angel.

"Smoke?" Crowley asked casually after a brief, comfortable silence, having adequately clothed and covered himself, watching Aziraphale’s hands as he did the same.

"You've got a light on you?" Aziraphale asked, already reaching for the hand-rolled cigarettes hidden in a snuff-box from 1918.

"Of course!" Crowley jibed back, sticking out his forked tongue and wriggling it like a hatchling.

Aziraphale just _knew_ that he was going to conjure flame on his thumb rather than produce a lighter. Six thousand years and the demon still thought that trick was cool. He smiled at the thought, feeling half soppy with love, no matter how silly it was.

His demon changed all the time, whims taking him where he liked for fashion and overpriced decor, but at his heart he'd always be Crowley. And that was all it took for an angel called Aziraphale to love him more than Creation itself.

"And a picnic?" Aziraphale goaded with a pleased smile.

"Of course, angel, anything you like." Crowley grinned back, clicking his fingers to produce a flame and lighting Aziraphale’s cigarette. "Sounds perfect."


End file.
